


re: a halfway heart

by rensshi



Category: WayV (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rensshi/pseuds/rensshi
Summary: You come to learn some things about yourself on a road trip for three.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun/Wong Kun Hang | Hendery
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	re: a halfway heart

  
  


“Lucas, Yangyang, or Winwin,” Ten asks, his eyes on the rearview mirror. “You have to answer,” he adds, tone silky and Kun can imagine the tortured face Hendery’s giving him. An obnoxious little Ford cuts them off in their lane and Kun swears. He can feel Ten’s eyes boring into him before he swivels and turns in Kun’s periphery to look at Hendery in the back.

“Do I really have to?” Hendery asks.

“It’s going to be a loooong drive until our next stop.”

There’s a short pause, punctuated by the music. “Kill Yangyang,” Hendery finally answers.

“Obviously. Are you seriously thinking about who you’d fuck?” Ten asks after an even longer pause in the car.

Kun laughs and glances at Hendery in the mirror; he’s bumped his head against the window in the back too hard when he rests against it, defeated. “Yangyang should have never told you the games you could play during a road trip,” Kun says to Ten.

“Well what else were we supposed to do for almost eighteen hours on the road?”

Kun runs his tongue behind the back of his teeth, jaw feeling tight. They’re in traffic again, at the outskirts of Beijing on their exit, sedimentary movement inch by inch. Troye Sivan is singing about heaven, or something like that. Kun wipes his hands lightly on his jeans again when he can take them off the wheel. 

“I’m booking your flight back to Beijing when we reach Chengdu,” Kun deadpans.

“Fine. Hendery—who among them would you go on a road trip with?” Ten asks instead. 

“Why would you ask that? He’s already on a trip with them,” Kun offers. He catches a glimpse of Hendery’s shit-eating grin in the mirror at this.

“Christ,” Ten sighs.

The sun glitters like the top of the sea on cars in front of them when they’re back on the road again, jigsawed with colours. The next hour seeps into the next. Hendery is quiet, playing a game on his phone. Ten rolls down the window halfway, the air whistling low and beating down momentum hard enough on the open roads where there are large stretches of plains elevating into mountains in the distance.

“You good?” Kun asks. He glances at Ten, eyes slanted and beady in the sliver of sun falling across his face through the window. His profile is sharper in the white light, rinsed in a kind of halo. Ten fumbles for his shades and slips them on, his posture easing instantaneously.

“I’m great. Tell me when you need help navigating. Okay?” he says, tapping Kun’s arm for good measure while Kun hums.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They reach Baoding at night, their bags unpacked at the hotel. Hendery retraces the way to the corner store that he spotted on the way to the hotel round the bend of the wide street. It’s clearly visible in their line of sight with the LED neon sign flashing OPEN. He picks out the strawberry-flavoured ice cream bar for himself and a cookies and cream one for Ten who is back at the hotel, reluctant to go out again after showering and he’s got a point with how the sweat hasn’t cooled along their necks from walking in the moist evening air in early July.

“You could have stayed longer with family,” Kun brings up. It’s like an old conversation repeated but only in Kun’s head. “Didn’t Xuxi offer for you to come visit him in Hong Kong?”

“I could have gone, yeah,” Hendery agreed, licking his lips. They’re splotched red at the edges, chapped. “It just felt weird—like cutting into precious time when he hasn’t been home in forever.”

With everyone else having gone home during their break, the pets sent off by their manager to a pet sitter, it’s not hard to imagine Hendery going crazy all by himself in the dorms. Xiaojun and Sicheng caught the same flight to Beijing two days ago—Xiaojun breaking away with an excited _see ya_ to switch to a layover for Guangzhou and Ten shouted at him to eat to his heart’s content as a goodbye. Kun had been home right after promotions ended, and well—all the food his mother cooked wasn’t nearly enough to tide over the unsettled air around his shoulders that he felt stepping back into a near-empty dorm in Seoul once he came back—it had been Ten who was there when Kun was the first to come back. He’d flung his Switch aside on their sofa, the tinny music of a Pokemon battle muffled as Bella came scurrying up to greet Kun. Ten opened his arms in a show of welcome home, his face purposefully blank until Kun stepped in for the hug.

After Ten’s gone to sleep having done his stretches, Hendery now has his legs draped over one arm on the armchair and the warm blue light of Kun’s laptop washed on the planes of his face like a strange caricature. Kun and him are squeezed in, as comfortably as deemed possible in the huge armchair and watch footage of Kun’s supposed next vlog video; on the road, the stretches of green go by with dusty plains and a river against the horizon burning too bright under the unrelenting sun like stars sprinkled on the water.

“Do you want to get this finished soon?” Hendery asks, surprised. “You don’t have to.” 

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“I dunno—“ Hendery pauses. Kun hears the soft inhale, and feels the movement of muscle against his back. “It’s probably okay to feel like you’re empty-handed now. Oh—I’ll give you three other names,” Hendery starts, tapping Kun’s shoulder even when Kun has long zoned out from editing and has nothing else to funnel down his attention to. “Xiaojun, Winwin ge, Ten. And I’m not asking who among them you’d go on a road trip with.”

“Modest of you to leave yourself out if you’re bringing Ten into this,” Kun points out. 

“It’s not fair that Kun ge doesn’t get to play,” Hendery sings with a blinding smile, blue light glinting off his big teeth, breath of air forced out in a gasp when Kun jabs him in the stomach.

“Just so it’s out of the way—I’m killing Ten. Xiaojun can sing well enough for two vocalists and Yangyang can take over as main dancer, no problem.”

“That’s horrible of you,” Hendery replies, eyes flickering over to Ten’s sleeping form.

“Are you surprised?”

“No. But for the record, if you say you’ll marry Xiaojun, just know I’m going to have to buy Ten food because we bet on you and your choices.” 

Kun just digs his fingers into Hendery’s stomach, his body jolting like a bizarre toy coming to life. 

Canned coffee should be good enough to keep Kun alert and they emerge from the store at the gas station they’ve stopped at somewhere in Yangquan, bringing back extra ammo.

“Would you have rather been anywhere else?” Kun asks, before he downs the last of a bottle of orange juice, while they creep along traffic, old school Jay Chou playing softly.

“No,” Ten replies after a beat. “Visiting home again would have been…” He’s searching for the word in Mandarin. Or Korean. He can’t find it; Kun can imagine the pensive look on his face, the pull of his brows furrowed. Ten’s family had visited their fan meet in Bangkok during their promotions and he’d spent a full day with them after that before they left. 

“Too much?” Kun offers and Ten hums in agreement.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A holiday wouldn’t have been a problem for any of them after finishing the last of their comeback promotions just three weeks ago. There’s this thing sometimes about unfamiliar liminal spaces with each city they pass through feeling like a reprieve. Maybe driving miles down south across a country, 3-star hotels that smell like Febreze and ashy smoke, and weaving through night crowds a little aimlessly without their manager keeping close tabs on them was what they all needed. Ten probably needed the most entertainment, holed up in the dorm between trips to the hospital for check ups due to an old injury that came back with a vengeance. It kept him from working too hard towards the tail end of WayV’s promotions. 

So when Kun extended the invitation to his vacation, it didn’t take him that long to say yes. 

“Are you sure? It’ll be like a history lesson before we get to the good stuff—special, just for you,” Kun pointed out in the dorm when he came over to Ten’s room to explain the itinerary; being that they’d stay a couple of nights in Xi’an just to sightsee the historical landmarks and tourist-y spots before getting to Chengdu. 

“Wow, way to spoil this for me before we’re even on vacation. Wanna ask Hendery if he wants to come with? He’ll be back from Macau by then,” Ten suggested, jabbing a thumb towards Hendery’s empty bed, sheets miraculously folded and blankets tucked neatly for once. It caught Kun by surprise but it sounded like a great idea anyway.

Thing about being co-workers, and playing fuck marry kill with them is that you probably shouldn’t play it stuck in a car if you’ve already been halfway to doing the first thing on the list with one of them. 

The judgment Kun prided himself on shrivelled down during their time in Bangkok, when he’d let Ten sleep over in his hotel room. They’d talked about stuff before anything happened. Or, they’d tried and then fumbled for something else that didn’t require any talking. “We’re not doing this again, are we,” Ten spoke up first that night, after he’d long taken his hands off Kun’s undone belt. Kun had tried to speak through how fuzzy his mind had been, something firing through his neurons that wasn’t the amalgamation of energy drinks and exhaustion together, or his dick going soft, and rasped out a weak _nope._

The only thing that didn’t make Kun want to book it back to Seoul in the middle of their promotions, march into the company building so he can announce his contract termination and fucking quit, is that any awkwardness blows over in a blink. It made Kun feel wholly stupid then, heat crawling up his ears and neck when Ten’s eyes meet his and he returns the watery reassuring smiles during the quiet gaps waiting for the cameras to start rolling. Sometimes he forgets that they’re sort of adults—and sort of is enough to give themselves credit where it’s due because they can at least act like adults.

On the night before their trip, Ten slipped into Kun’s room after Hendery, sprawling himself around Hendery’s personal space while Xiaojun complained about them having their own room to begin with. 

“Winwin’s gone out to walk Bella. I don’t wanna be left out,” Ten had reasoned and threw Xiaojun a bag of chips he’d manifested out of nowhere to appease him (it did the opposite, hitting Xiaojun square on the face by accident), and things were mostly normal.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They spend their day in Xi’an walking the length of the Ancient Wall. At night, they go through stalls selling barbecue skewers smoking everywhere, skewer sticks still in their hands when they reach the end of Muslim Street and sticking together like ducklings when Kun goes to find a trashcan. They reach the center of the city to look at the Bell Tower, lit up and glowing, almost wistful at opposite ends of the Drum Tower across the square like two sisters upholding a duty. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Ten murmurs. He begins drawing on his iPad after having his Procreate canvas blank the past thirty minutes in their hotel room in the evening. “I would have been a little disappointed if you’d gone by yourself. I mean—I just didn’t want you to brood like an old man on a self-discovery trip.” 

Five years of familiarity and talking to Ten like this when it wasn’t about changing the hook in a song, or teaching him to strengthen a note and hold it, had always had a third person in the room most of the time to diffuse anything lost in translation. But it’s funny how letting your bandmate blow you meant wading through misplaced residual guilt, and then ultimately, mutual understanding.

“Sorry,” Kun suddenly says, and the word alone already feels like a tiny prick of a needle. “I wanted to ask you to come with me because I didn’t want to feel bad by not inviting you. I didn’t want to keep my distance anymore.” 

Ten straightens his back, like he’s gearing up to answer a question worth extra marks in a classroom. “I get it. I said yes for selfish reasons too anyway. I just mostly—mostly wanted to make sure things were cool with us, besides an extended holiday,” he admits. 

It’s silent for a while, other than the rush of water running from the bathroom where Hendery yelps along with the sound of a plastic bottle hitting the floor. Ten focuses on drawing and Kun watches him, as if in slow motion under the dull white lights of the lampshades in the room. The thing Ten’s been doodling is one of his many renditions of Hendery as a donkey: bright smile, large teeth and eyes kind of downright manic for effect. 

“You know,” Kun says slowly, “Hendery would have gone regardless because you asked him.” 

Ten gives him a look, the one with his eyebrows raised while the corners of his mouth steeple into a half-smile, the one he gets when he’s both confused but intrigued. “Kun, he would have gone for you too,” Ten replies like it’s painstakingly obvious. 

All Kun really has to say is, “That’s nice.”

“You’re awfully nice when it comes to him. I’m like, right here,” Ten teases.

“I’m happy you are, but now you’re just fishing.”

The bathroom door opens at the same time Kun smacks Ten’s arm when he mimes a fishing motion. Hendery, hair wet and face fresh in his oversized sleep shirt and gym shorts, blinks at them but doesn’t ask. Continues to hum that toothpaste commercial jingle they picked up on the radio here during their drive.

They play a game of blackjack with Kun’s card deck, Ten singing along to the jingle until Kun clamps a hand over his mouth.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Kun ge,” Hendery says, taking on the fake precocious tone that Yangyang has perfected and smiling with big white teeth. “Thanks.”

“For?”

It’s sweltering hot this evening, humidity blanketing them heavily in the air waiting for their takeout at a snackbar.

“Asking us to go with you,” Hendery replies, and Kun puts his phone down slowly on the wooden table. 

“Did Ten talk about how I shouldn’t be an old man brooding alone on this trip?” 

“Something like that. I dunno though, I don’t think you brood. You’d be finding something else to do without us,” Hendery tells him, taking a swig of the bottle of peach juice he’d bought. Under the baseball cap he’s got, his eyes are unreadable for once, under the yellow light bulbs strewn overhead hung around the tarp outside the snack bar. 

“Having something to do doesn’t always mean time well-spent,” Kun laughs.

“That’s true.” Hendery runs this thumb over the sticker on his phone case, quiet for a bit. “What happens when we’ve run out of something to do?” Hendery asks.

Years abroad is a reminder that there were options. Other places to stay, to belong. It’s a numbers game from their debut and ever since Kun landed in Korea feeling like all his insides were jumbled up, it probably won’t just feel like recalibration when all this is over. He might need a surgery to rearrange whatever parts of himself he’d had to bury. When Kun gets complimented for his Korean sounding native, he used to be relieved, proud even. Now, he just feels old and he’ll never let Yangyang and Ten get the satisfaction of hearing this from his own mouth. He'd been up some nights poring over Hendery's Korean homework with him before debut to help him out; he'd hardly ever felt tired then. Hendery had the innate ability to get people to _want_ to humour his conversations no matter how absurd the topic was, and Kun tends to find himself both confused and thoroughly amused all the time.

“Do you believe we’ll actually run out of things to do?” Kun asks him, watching Hendery’s eyes, dark and strangely clear. The light accentuates the curl of his mouth in a tight pensive expression.

“No,” Hendery finally answers, looking sheepish. He startles when the uncle from behind the counter appears before them and sets their takeout food in a plastic bag on the table.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Hendery had been hesitant at first about the trip. But all it took for him to give in had been Ten’s bargaining with cute faces through FaceTime, one of Hendery’s sisters hearing and encouraging him right there on the call to go join them, and a sympathetic smile that Kun offered behind Ten at the time as if to say _I know, but how bad can it be with just the both of us?_ Prior to that, it had even been Sicheng’s suggestion: Sicheng had nodded approvingly at the original itinerary Kun had planned for himself in Chengdu and gave him a pointed look.

“No bringing extra homework. I think your music teacher will live if he doesn’t hear about your newest piece by then,” Sicheng gently drilled. “You could take Ten with you. Hendery too, you need him for this.”

 _"Need_ him?”

Sicheng laughed then, staccato punches of air than real laughter when he tried to explain. “You know how Hendery is. It’s easy being around him.” Sicheng had waited on Lucas beside them on the couch in their dorm for a response.

“He was nervous about the idea of visiting me and my family in Hong Kong on such short notice, so it’s not like he has anything to do. No it’s fine, it’s my fault. Spur of a moment invite,” Lucas explained, waving his hand. “But ge, you should bring him. Hendery would like that,” he added, brightening encouragingly.

Kun had woken up that day to Ten and Hendery coming back through the front door from another one of Ten’s follow-up check-ups, not as regular anymore since he’s mostly better. Still, Hendery liked tagging along. Kun didn’t need to parse it out because he didn’t really have to—at least not with Hendery when he wears his heart on his sleeve. Picking up on things as a leader was one, but sometimes, there are things that come magnified in the undertones. It’s like hearing the tick of a metronome off-beat, seeing a whirl of colours that bleed out behind your closed eyelids the way Hendery looked at Ten.

The last thing Kun had filmed on his camera on this trip had been Ten curled up on the plush wide armchair in their hotel in the corner doodling on the sketchbook in his lap, and Hendery laid flat on his stomach on the bed, legs splayed motionless and sneakily zooming in on Ten with starry filter effects to take a short video on his phone before he sends it to the group chat. Kun wonders what Hendery thinks of moments like these when he watches them as Kun edits.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They’d stopped by a fortune teller’s booth during Xi'an. Ten had his apprehensions about it, and so did Kun but he’d agreed the moment Hendery suggested it. He’d gotten his palm read to only be calmly told by the fortune teller like she was reading morning tabloids or something: “You don’t think love is an option, and yet, you give yourself away bit by bit.” Then she’d asked, “Are you afraid or ashamed of what you want?” 

Something in his chest lurched painfully then, like whatever’s been contained there has broken through. Kun ran his thumb along his palm in his lap, over his heart line as if her words had struck a match, flames licking at him inside. “Both,” Kun answered, voice wavering and suddenly very loud to himself. 

She smiled, still close-lipped and calm but her eyes were softer. Kun saw her glance at Ten and Hendery waiting behind Kun by the booth. “You’re rarely alone, and no one should be. Think about your own answer, young man.”

Kun’s mind cut through a series of images before sleep, thinking it over and going through the conversation he’d shared with Hendery getting takeout. They were like outtakes shoddily put together falling into a dream: Grandparents back in Fujian fussing over each other. Thunderstorm and sea of blinking lights and cheers, his hand quivered along with the shudder of his heart pounding while he gave their first acceptance speech for an award in Japan. The crown of Hendery's thick hair tickling his neck when he goes to sleep next to him on this trip, the way Ten cards his fingers through it across a room sometimes. How those same fingers had trembled holding Kun's hips when Kun kissed Ten on the corner of his mouth that particular night in Bangkok.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Chengdu is loud, like a whirring firework of colour and sound when they roam around the streets after hotpot. After mindless hours of wind periodically rushing in their ears through the car windows rolled down and the weariness of travel bearing down inconsistently upon them, like right now, everything new is heightened and brightened. 

Which lays out an impulsive, poor excuse for them ducking into a bar for more food and some drinks. 

Kun rarely gets to have baijiu, let alone be drunk off of it—the last time they’d really drank was around Christmas when they had the company dinner and Byun Baekhyun had to be dragged away before he could make them drunk enough to embarrass themselves in front of the man Lee Sooman himself when he and Jongdae were passing bottles around.

There are celebrations in the joint they’re at—somehow they’re dragged into making small talk with a bunch of foreigners on holiday, and before Kun knows it, he’s pretty sure they could already be their way to a hangover in the morning.

“I can’t drink anymore,” Hendery announces, sliding closer to Kun to tell him this and brushing over Kun’s thigh when he reaches for his hand.

“Already?” Kun yells over the music, reaching over to hold Hendery’s chin and gets alarmed, heart quickening when Hendery wraps his arms around him like a koala bear.

“Help,” Kun shouts at Ten when he comes back from the bar, and Ten just outright laughs, eyes shining in mirth. 

Twenty minutes later, they have to drag Hendery away from a couple opposite them, who apparently thinks Hendery is the funniest thing on the entire planet or something.

“Yeah we’ve gotta leave, got somewhere to be tomorrow,” Ten tells them, when they’re disappointed that Hendery ducked out of a group photo with them and some of their friends that he and Kun had been talking to.

“It’s a Friday and you’re on vacation,” says the girl in the high ponytail and heavily drawn winged liner, laughing at Ten. “You’re either famous, or criminals on the loose.”

“Both,” Hendery answers happily, and Kun laughs too loud and too shrill at that while Ten pinches him.

Hendery already dresses down on a regular basis that he could get recognised, so it’s safer to get up and leave before any of the cute girls here Hendery’s been trying his best not to ogle at stops glancing their way and actually comes over. The roots have grown out in Ten’s hair so it’s been dyed back to boring unassuming black, but Kun still has the faded dye job, now washed out blond. So Ten plucks off the bucket hat he’s wearing, and fits it snugly on Kun’s head and his expression is the same one he had towards Kun’s minion costume for the company’s Halloween party two years ago. 

Back at the hotel, after everything is quiet save for Hendery’s light snores right next to Kun, Ten faces him from the wide single bed opposite the one Kun and Hendery are sharing.

“I didn’t know you were into big teeth,” Ten whispers.

“Big what?” Kun mutters, still looking at the Germany photo dump from Yangyang, who should be back in Seoul by now, in their group chat. 

“Dick. I said _teeth_ ,” Ten says flatly when Kun peers at him, brows raised. “Big perfect pearly teeth in big smiles.”

“I heard you the first time. What are you even talking about”—Kun stops, hand still splayed on Hendery’s back and its gentle rise and fall beside him.

Ten’s gaze is clear and sharp. The Kun a few months, a year, maybe even four years ago would have positively squirmed in discomfort at being seen through. He would have denied it. But the Kun a few days ago just committed to not keeping his distance anymore, and he's not about to give up on that so soon, not to someone like Ten. Kun guesses that's part of the reason he could never really find himself out of Ten's orbit for the longest time. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Ten says quietly. In other circumstances maybe, this could have been a little less complicated if they weren’t who they were with the world watching them.

“Yeah,” Kun whispers. Hendery stirs in his sleep beside him and Kun takes away his hand like he’s been burned. It isn’t such a big deal, Kun is supposed to say next but he doesn’t.

There’s a long silence in between, saturated with the stillness of the walls, whisper of noises down the halls that drift through the ventilation. The sheer curtains of the balcony still glow from the street lamps outside, warm tangerine orange.

“Not to stroke your average-sized ego, but I can see why Hendery liked you so much,” Kun says, chuckling lightly.

Ten rolls over on his back, sighing, and Kun wishes he could see his face but it’s hard to make out his expression. “And I don’t blame you for being into big dopey smiles,” Ten says, laughter soft. "You don't have to do everything by yourself."

There’s another pause where Kun just listens to the sound of Hendery breathing, the rustle of blankets from Ten who’s trying to get comfortable. Ten’s phone glows like a beacon in the dark screen upwards because he’s not looking at it. 

“I think, I’m going to sleep in tomorrow,” Kun finally says, exhaling slowly.

Ten glances over at him, eyes dark and piercing when he murmurs, “Okay. Goodnight.” 

"Hey Li Yongqin," Kun adds, feeling like his chest has capsized when he looks over at Ten. "Thanks."

Ten still smiles like a shark even in the dim light.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The last two days have honestly been starting to blur together on this trip. Not like practice leading up to comebacks where it's like clockwork, but jarring and disorienting, like the afterimage of a vivid dream. 

When Kun wakes up, the pale sunlight facing the wall spills over their belongings. Ten is talking on the phone in Korean, pacing around the room. Hendery is already up, dressed in one of Kun’s oversized jerseys, and his back to him and hunched over in concentration over some game show turned down low on television.

“He’s just checking up on us,” Hendery explains when he notices Kun is awake and Kun grunts. Ten’s _yes, we’re not skipping meals, not that much anyway—yeah, hyung, we’ve still in one piece_ to their manager makes Kun raise his head and try to crawl out of bed like a zombie, his body aching all over. 

But Hendery tugs Kun’s sleep shirt back and shakes his head no at Kun. “Relax. It’s like nine in the morning and you’re barely even awake,” Hendery reprimands.

“Uhhh, Kun is still asleep,” Ten says on the phone immediately, eyebrows raised at him from across the room. “Nothing is on fire,” he announces after he hangs up, walking over to Kun and squeezing him on the shoulder. It’s the sentiment alone that’s comforting. 

Kun’s barely watching the way Hendery is folding up clothes and packing them, eyes unfocused on the repetitive motion while Ten crawls back into bed, specifically next to Kun. “Gege, you can go back to sleep." Ten looks pleased when Kun doesn't even glower at Ten for using the title. "You need the rest. We have the day ahead of us here,” Ten reassures.

Kun hums, already blissfully committed to this non-plan. The sun is bright, spilling over specks of dust and the wall opposite him like a washed out painting, too light with exposure so he has to close his eyes anyway and slowly drift off. It reminds him of their too-bright living room in their dorm when the sun rises high in Seoul, electric fan on in the summer. The days are usually longest but here he doesn't mind. They’ll be home soon enough anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so this did not really have a plot. i had a lot of trouble trying to decide where to go with this fic and wrote scenes that were extended with a lot more detail that didn't end up getting included due to laziness to go any further and me knowing that this fic would never ever see the light of day if i kept writing lol. nonetheless, if you read through all of this thank you


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